


Please Don't Leave

by Kalyppso



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21557650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalyppso/pseuds/Kalyppso
Summary: Jesse is injured during a mission, Hanzo is worried.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 1
Kudos: 124





	Please Don't Leave

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this two years ago but I'm posting it here now.
> 
> It was for the following prompts:
> 
> “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”
> 
> “Please, don’t leave.”
> 
> All Overwatch properties and characters have credit to Blizzard and their respective creators / owners. I'm just playing.

It was a particularly chaotic battle. No one was able to keep up with the enemy, and only barely able to complete their assigned tasks. The results of the mission would be deemed a success, despite the fact that Zenyatta had flickered offline for half a minute, more than half the team was wounded, and Jesse McCree was unconscious after being thrown from a second story window.

Zenyatta did what he could in his injured state, but the gunslinger looked no better when Reinhardt finally lay him down in the medical ward with Dr Ziegler two hours later.

Hanzo had been hovering on the sidelines. While some exchanged awkward glances with him, the bulk of everyone’s attention was on their comatose companion. McCree wasn’t subtle in anything, so everyone knew they’d been flirting these past few weeks. Though none knew quite so well as Hanzo, who was surprised, but altogether enraptured by the whole affair; little secret conversations and inside jokes. They weren’t quite dating, and so knowing where to place himself in this disaster was … difficult, to say the least.

It wasn’t long before Angela shooed everyone away, and the crowd dispersed for showers, dinner and rest. Hanzo squeezed a cut on his arm and sat in a chair by the closed door.

Genji returned sometime later. With his face-plate removed, he was forced to stretch a weak smile in greeting. “Any news?”

“No,” Hanzo replied, looking down and away, still cradling his arms across himself.

Genji gave Hanzo his most sarcastic look as he walked straight up to the door, and knocked on it. Hanzo stood up, startled, his hands to his sides.

Dr Ziegler answered the door rather promptly. With her hair askew, her eyes tired, and her ungloved hands - immaculate; it was clear that if there was any surgery, it was over.

“Hello,” she said calmly before standing with the door wide. “I’ve done what I can. He’s resting now. I’m hoping he’ll wake up sometime between now and the next 20 hours with a massive headache and considerable concussion.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Hanzo asked through the dry sensation in his mouth as he stepped past the doctor into the stale white room.

“Then I will be monitoring a coma.” She answered severely, and then tried to rebound with a lighter tone as she consoled the two brothers, “But he is very lucky. A few broken bones and head trauma is better than if he had directly damaged his brain or his spine.” She looked flustered at her own words and tried again, “I am hoping his luck will hold out.”

“You’re an excellent physician, Doctor,” Genji said amicably. “You’ve worked miracles and more. I trust he will be well.”

Hanzo reflexively scrunched his shoulders up around his head, and crossed his arms again. He could feel his heart pounding with embarrassment as he asked aloud without turning his head from McCree, “May I have a moment alone with him?”

Angela looked to Genji, who nodded gently.

“Of course,” replied the doctor before she addressed the room. “Avina could you tell me if there are any notable changes to the condition of Jesse McCree.”

“Yes, Mercy,” called a disembodied voice.

“Come then Genji,” Angela declared, “make me a pot of tea.”

As they left, Hanzo settled into the chair across from the bed in which McCree lay. Tubes and wires and bandages decorated his face and body, and a horrible bruise was curling from the back of his neck forward onto his chest.

The man lay covered by a bed sheet up to the middle of his torso. Hanzo had never seen so much of McCree’s skin before, and he darted his eyes around in shame that this thought should even occur to him at such a time.

“You hear them?” Hanzo said quietly. “Speaking in front of me of the miracles Doctor Zeigler has accomplished. As if I should be unbothered by the fact that it was I who commit the atrocities that required those miracles.”

Hanzo unfolded his arms and extended a wary hand to the edge of the bed, pulling back to hold onto his own jaw just before he could graze the sheet. “Genji means well. He has truly forgiven me, and looks only to the future. He hopes it includes me, but … it is hard to feel welcome.”

“I thought perhaps I could at least feel needed,” he continued, placing his hands on his knees, “but the results of this most recent mission might prove that my capabilities do not suit the needs of this organization.”

Tears began to well up in Hanzo’s eyes as they hovered over the medical tapestry measuring every condition, heartbeat and brainwave of McCree’s unconscious form as he whispered, “Even so. I want to stay. I want to be here.”

His nails dug into his palms where they rest in his lap as he hissed, “ **You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.** I can’t convince myself to stay.”

Hanzo’s soft hiccuping cries sang a song with the steady beeping of the medical equipment for a few minutes as he let himself break under the weight of the situation. It was refreshing. He didn’t cry often, and he didn’t cry hard, but he could almost feel safe enough to cry in McCree’s waking presence. He wanted that. Maybe someday.

The first time McCree woke, the room was dark except for the soft green lighting on the medical equipment monitoring his condition. He recognized his surroundings almost instantly, and was a little too concussed to have put up much of a fuss if he’d found himself in unfamiliar territory anyway.

He moved only slightly with a hiss and a groan, and then began settling himself back into the pillows before realizing there was a whole other person seated just to his right, their face buried in their arms. He let his eyes focus in the darkness, and expected Angela’s blond ponytail to shift into sight. He sat up a little straighter and blinked several times as Hanzo’s dark hair came into sharp relief with the white surroundings.

The cowboy’s heart skipped a beat, and smiled and shuddered under the covers, willing himself to sleep so as not to frighten away his fickle guest.

When McCree awoke the second time, it was to Hanzo accidentally screeching his chair on the floor. Hanzo’s eyes bulged wide when he noticed his bedridden companion rousing with a start.

“You’re awake,” he piped quickly, “I should fetch the doctor.” He moved to continue his retreat, having intended to return to his quarters originally.

“Wait,” McCree called, trying to hasten into a sitting position, but creaking and growling as he moved about.

His plea and position stopped Hanzo successfully, and he moved, hesitantly, to touch McCree’s shoulder to right him. He pulled his hand away and averted his gaze when McCree gave him a pained smile as he exhaled sharply.

“ **Please, don’t leave** ,” McCree whispered through dry lips. “I’m okay, I just … I’d sure like it if you stayed.”

Hanzo simply stared for a moment, before a soft expression fell over his features, and he sat back down in the chair by the bed. “Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> Someone misinterpret my meaning and thought Hanzo caused McCree's injuries, when really I was trying to reference Hanzo's general guilt over Genji when he's bemoaning Mercy's ability to wield miracles.


End file.
